Making Magic
by ForsakenKalika
Summary: A Ministry mandate post-War has Lucius scrambling to meet it with unexpected results. Unexpected to him, at least. Originally intended as a Halloween oneshot, it has become Better Late than Never Smut. Not kid-friendly. Never canon.


Dude. The response on the random Dramione oneshot has been insane so far. Massive shoutouts to those of you who have given that some love.

Now, for a change of pace, have a Lumione. This is definitely M rated, not for children, and features a more Grey!Hermione.

Enjoy the shenanigans.

Dislaimer: it ain't mine, i don't own it. I'm just enjoying my little literary sock puppets for the time being.

* * *

' **Ministry Makes Mockery of Marriage!'**

Those words had haunted Lucius Malfoy for a fortnight. In its questionable wisdom, the Ministry had passed a seemingly trivial piece of legislation requiring wizarding couples of child-bearing age to have access to fertility treatments and reproductive care for the specific purpose of having more children. Witches and wizards bound in matrimony would receive a stipend for up to two magical children produced to assist with care and cost of each. In some cases, stipends were being granted retroactively provided the child was in vitro before the law was passed. Testing at a late-term appointment would confirm magical status of the fetus as well as gender.

Taking into account the single-child status many pureblood families had bred themselves into, arrangements were made in the form of adoption. Those families would receive a stipend to oversee education and any costs related to housing. That they would be required, along with any offspring conceived under this mandate, to attend a mixed-status primary school rather than be home-educated as was standard in many families was contested but ultimately accepted in the drive to abolish blood mania.

At first, the Wizarding populus had rejoiced. There was no shortage of war orphans, and now, they would have homes. The decline of Wizarding births was at an end. It was the addendum to the legislation which had cut the cheers short after it was discovered.

Any non-married pureblood of fertile age would find their pending marriage contract, should one be in place, effectively dissolved unless it was to someone of differing blood status. Those without a marriage contract would be mandated to actively petition or receive petitions for a spouse. Draco had wasted no time in asking the half-blood he had been secretly seeing to marry him. Even Lucius' ex-wife was in the middle of negotiations for her own contract.

Thinking of Narcissa never failed to act as a proverbial shank in his side. His failure as a husband, a father, had sown the seeds for contempt between them. Before, they had a good marriage. Not a complete one, but they had been the best of friends, often seeking each other's comfort out of mutual respect and affection. If either had taken a lover, it was discrete and handled with minimal effect on the family. Above all, they both had agreed that their son, their heir, was the most important person.

When He returned, it had all went to pot. If Narcissa hadn't lied to protect Potter… But none of that mattered anymore. She had, and during the chaos, had taken their son to safety, effectively defecting to the Light. He remembered seeing her huddled protectively around Draco in the Great Hall after the Dark Lord fell, as well as soothing other children around her. His heart broke as he watched her smooth the hair of a tiny Hufflepuff while she whispered in Draco's ear when he rubbed his face into her shoulder as he did when a child.

'He is still a child,' Lucius had chastised himself, the shame of his actions, however unwilling this go-round in the face of a violent and manic Dark Lord, making him turn away to move toward the Aurors who were arriving.

He put up no fight when they arrested him again, played no games when asked for information, and offered no defence when faced with his crimes. No amount of claiming Imperius would have helped him even if he had felt inclined to plead as such.

During his trial, if one could call it that, his memories were played before a closed court. The Wizengamot and a handful of others watched as Voldemort seized his assets, his home. They observed every relevant moment, every Unforgivable both sent and received, and listened to his answers to every question he was asked.

When asked if he thought he deserved Azkaban, he had only replied, "At the very least."

Deliberations had taken less than a day. It was then that Lucius had known there were larger plans coming to fruition.

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, in light of your testimonies and assistance in the apprehension of multiple rogue Dark agents formerly known as Death Eaters, the Wizengamot is willing to negotiate probation." A mousy, bespectacled man announced in a shocking baritone. The dichotomy had startled Lucius with a burst of humour, which was wiped from his eyes as the man's words sunk in.

"...What are the terms?" Lucius' grey gaze met an empathetic emerald among the Seats and he realized he was looking at Harry Potter who had taken his familial Seat. He remembered feeling ashamed as the boy stared back with compassion. At least, he thought it had been compassion. It could have easily have been pity.

"Two years house arrest during which you will have your house regularly visited and your wand tested. You will be required to pay arrears, but in light of the large sums Voldemort would regularly access, you will be given a grace period to recoup a percentage of those losses before payment. You will maintain control of your companies, which will be regularly audited. Your Seat will be made available to you after your probation is complete." They were giving him his life back. Granted, there were penalties, but…

Lucius had tried to reject the ruling, to stay out from under the Ministry's thumb, but the week after his hearing found him at the Manor where he found Narcissa's wedding and engagement rings and divorce papers which he signed immediately. He could at least do that right. Anything for the woman who had protected their son when he himself had failed.

When Draco came upon him that night drinking firewhiskey in his study asking him if he'd seen them, Lucius had said as such. He couldn't fault her for wanting a new start, nor could he ask her to stay when he had done so much wrong. Draco had sat with him then, sipping from his own tumbler, and they talked. For hours, they spoke of the War, the pain and pressures his decisions had put his family through. Mostly, though, Lucius had spent the time trying to keep a stiff upper lip before finally losing composure and drunkenly sobbing apologies at Draco.

Two and a half years and one Ministry ruling later, they still sat in his study on those late nights, sipped firewhiskey, and spoke, though with significantly less emotional outbursts and more honesty. A throwaway comment from Draco on one such night after Lucius had told him of his struggles finding a suitable (or, in the case of a few witches he had attempted to court, unsuitable) wife had piqued his interest exponentially.

"Word has it Granger has denied every request she's received."

* * *

A week had passed before he had acted on that information, with his final offer having been denied by the Zabini (black) widow, of all people. She hadn't even sent an owl to him personally, but rather informed him by inviting him to her own bonding to Charles Weasley. The odd pairing had seemed content with the match, and he wished the Weasley all the luck dealing with the tempestuous rumored murderess, but the sheer audacity of the beautiful Italian woman drove him to the Ministry owlery within five minutes of the ceremony's conclusion to seek another avenue.

 _I need to know where she lives._

 _L.A.M._

That evening, his digestif in hand, he considered how best to secure the hand of a war heroine in marriage. Her status in their world was legendary, though any current information regarding her only involved charities or rumour. His own investigations had shown that Granger rarely appeared in public. The only pictures of her in public record were either of her in elegant dress, which Lucius could admit he rather enjoyed, or half-blurred shots of her running mundane errands. Occasionally, a more enterprising photographer would find her in the muggle world, hair swept from her neck in a casual updo and a gay smile on her face. Accompanying the pictures were blurbs ranging from a few short sentences about the books she was currently reading or the stylist of her dress, to full articles regarding the importance of state of the art medical equipment and trained herbologists to wizarding health and prosperity.

Astonished wasn't quite the correct word for how Lucius had felt when he read about the potions scholarship she had co-founded. The Severus T. Snape Scholarship. His old friend would have snarled about that, he was sure.

When Popsy, his personal elf, entered bearing a message, Lucius felt anticipation roiling in his belly. Opening it, he smiled down at the response. A different man than the past, he may have become, but Lucius Malfoy would never be completely changed from his time as the Dark Lord's man.

* * *

He cast his eye over her property again, noting the understated wealth which exuded from the landscaping alone, not to mention the exterior of her abode. Having done his digging into her background, Lucius knew the house had belonged to her biological grandfather, that she had been willed it while she was still in Hogwarts, to inherit upon her graduation. With her parents still in Australia, she had sold the house of her upbringing and moved into the estate house he was investigating currently.

Well-groomed topiaries lined the wrought iron fence, the faint sheen of wards visible along it if one looked just the right way. Cobblestones divided the moderate front lawn leading from the gate to the front steps. A large willow tree loomed on the side closest to him over a pond filled with picturesque fish and lily pads. 'Of course there's a garden settee next to it,' he thought uncharitably. 'How trite.'

On the other side of the walk laid a simple path around the side of the house and open land. He recognized the defensive advantages of such a layout and moved his position from the front to the back of the property. Careful to stay Disillusioned, he walked the Ward line until he found a few different vantage points to the house from which he might observe her.

The next day, Lucius stood in the sitting room of his quarry while she was away at work. He had found, in his investigations, that not only was she independently wealthy outside of her War earnings, she had also thumbed her nose at the Ministry job she had been offered as he had thought. Rather, Hermione Granger had, even more wisely than assumed, invested her money in various businesses, charities, and organizations in both worlds. That would grate on him if he had no intention of making her his wife, but as such, Lucius was only too happy to meld the holdings and dealings of the Malfoys with that of the Granger witch, distasteful as they may have seemed.

Examining her accounts books on her desk, he found that she seemed to keep things on the level. Every transaction had a full report, from the smallest donation to Mungo's to the largest property acquisition of a popular line of overseas novelty stores. It was nearly too neatly laid out, but he would find out why after they were bound together. Her diary was filled with appointments, always written out neatly, in full. The search of her desk turned up no trick or oddly dimensioned drawers, and he bookshelves simply held legal and financial texts.

The door to her cellar was charmed, he found, but nothing serious. A simple Notice-Me-Not against curious Muggles. Finding only a potions lab and small nursery, he moved back up to the main house.

Lucius toured her empty kitchen and dining room, giving the refrigerator and microwaves odd looks and nearly jumping when the baseboard heater began hissing to warm the house. A small den laid off to the side holding nothing of interest outside of her bookshelves and a box with two prongs sticking out from the top with rotary dials on the front. A Telly Vision, if he had remembered his Muggle Studies properly. That would NOT be coming to the Manor, he decided.

Moving to the stairs, the blond wizard ascended to the second story slowly, enjoying the artwork his soon-to-be-fiance had placed up. Admittedly, Hermione knew how to decorate, and while he had been nervous at first to allow his new wife to handle the redecoration of the Manor, as was her right as the new Mistress, now Lucius almost looked forward to it. Moving down the hall from the stairwell, he peeped in each room. First, what looked like a small personal library, amusing him with the memories of Draco's ranting about "the bookworm swot". Next, an office, which seemed to be used as a studio. For what, he was unsure, but the glimpse of a palette made him assume she painted for enjoyment.

Finally, he came across her bedroom and, by proxy, the en suite bathroom. Hermione had chosen a deeper colour for her walls, an almost deep plum, relying on the natural tawny wainscotting to carry the warmth her choice in paint seemed to lack. The effect in conjunction with the heavy wooden furnishings reminded him of the days of his youth, spent at his grandfather's hunting lodge in Belgium. Lucius paced around a bit on the thick carpeting fingering knick-knacks and idly looking in the the built-in drawers and shelves to learn more of this witch. If anything, he noted, this room seemed to contain more personality than the rest of the house combined, yet it still felt like a veneer. Her walk-in closet seemed to hold no further clues, either, but an odd bolt hole in the panelling of the back wall caught his attention. Casting a few basic diagnostic charms revealed nothing but that it was warded, whatever 'it' was, and nothing further. Lucius glanced outside her large windows then at his pocket watch noting he had very little time, so he spun on his heel and wandered into her en-suite.

The usual potions and oils dotted her tub, a rather large porcelain piece created to look like a grotto pool. Popping the odd top on what seemed to be a flexible muggle bottle, he lifted it to his nose. Bergamot and orange seemed to be her choice for- he glanced down to the bottle in his hands- body wash. What an odd title, if not very direct. It seemed muggles liked to keep things simple, and he wondered, with an uncharitable snort, if it was because anything more complex was simply too much for them to grasp. Placing the bottle of wash back down in its place, he picked up a few more of the more familiar glass vials of bath oils. There seemed to be nothing frivolous outside of her strange muggle wash, as the only oils he found were those used in purification or medicine. Did she not feel the need to relax, or were baths just part of her ritual methodology? No matter, he decided, and moved onto her cabinets to rifle through her linens and random rabble of goods. There, he found a few containers for common tinctures and rubs for muscle and joint pain, but what raised his eyebrows was the bottle of a deep blue potion.

He snorted. Seems the Gryffindor Princess wasn't so golden after all. Lucius held in his hand a known, and very strong aphrodisiac. The potion itself wasn't necessarily Dark, being reliant on pheromones rather than inhibiting free will, but the construction involved blood magic which had made many a wizard nervous these days. The tall wizard remembered the warded section of her closet wall. He'd have gone back to attempt to investigate further, but his wand vibrated to alert him that his time was up.

No matter. He would be back. Making his way back outside through her garden door, Lucius spun, Apparating back to the Manor grounds.

Over the next few weeks, he watched the young witch. She was frightfully boring from most perspectives, but knowing what lay in her washroom cupboard, he doubted it was anything but a show. She knew someone was watching her and was doing a damn good job of being as unassuming as possible. Just a typical witch doing typical things. Simply a muggle-born who cooked her own food, wandered the house with a glass of wine, listened to her muggle music, and went to bed at a reasonable time. Lucius knew better than to stop watching when the obnoxious electric lights in her chambers were put out.

Sure enough, a half hour after her light would go out, he would see a small blue flame bobbing between the windows of her home before descending into a cellar beneath it.

Hours later, she would come back up and finally crawl into bed, only to wake up the next morning bright and early. Hermione's routine only changed on fridays when her friends would congregate and they collectively left the house to do whatever they considered fun. Occasionally, she would come back slightly inebriated, but never seemed to actually let loose.

If he had to guess, he would say she was even hiding from her friends. Whatever she was up to, Granger wouldn't be able to hide it forever. He would know her secrets, and he would have her in his bed.

* * *

"Trick or treat!"

"Oh! Look at this!" He watched her greet the small muggle child dressed as some sort of hybrid goblin-elf thing in a pink princess gown who had touched her odd door chime. The little girl smiled back up at Granger with glee, proud and excited for a treat. 'Treat indeed,' thought Lucius unkindly. These muggles and their ludicrous beliefs. Even the witch in question was costumed, it seemed, though he couldn't see much under the heavy velvet cloak she wore. The occasional peek of gauzy white fabric made him curious, loathe as he was to consider it. It was a virginal shade of cream and semi-translucent. Something about it in conjunction with the wreath in her hair tickled his memory.

"You're a witch!" The child cried out joyfully, and Lucius' eyes widened. How could she-

"Oh, yes," Granger replied, winking at the little girl and smiling indulgently. What was she doing?!

"Are you a good witch?" Hermione seemed to consider this, giving the child's parents an amused smile.

"Well, you tell me. Am I a good witch or a bad witch?" Lucius held his breath as the little girl reached out to touch Granger's hand. He could almost feel the magic radiating from the child. Panic rose as he watched the two older muggles share a frightened look and attempt to reach out to their child. Before they could, however, the little girl released Granger's hand and smiled.

"You're neither. You're a real one." The muggle adults began stuttering apologies and Granger simply waved them off.

"Can you keep a secret, Marion?" The little girl nodded back seriously. "So are you," Granger continued. "And I think that is pretty special. Do you know what special girls get?"

The child, Marion, shook her head. A moment later, Granger was pulling a chocolate galleon from behind the little girl's ear. "They get a treat. Be good for your parents, Marion, do good works for those around you, and I will see you next year." She shooed the child off toward her mother, but whispered to the father, handing him a small rectangle of heavy cardstock. He nodded back and shook her hand before joining his wife at the end of the walk.

"It's going to be just fine now, Sharon. Lady Granger knows what to do." The wife lit up and looked back to the woman still standing on her porch to wave in gratitude. Granger raised a hand back and went back inside.

"She knew my name!" the little girl crowed as they walked further away. "And gave me candy!"

'Lady Granger?' He snorted to himself. 'Such hubris.' Still, he had to admit there was something interesting in the way these muggles seemed to revere her. More than once, he had witnessed the Muggle guests to her door this evening speaking to her with respect and endearment, but chalked it up to one of her more philanthropic efforts in this world.

As the late hour approached, he caught sight of her tidying her foyer of muggle sweets packaging before she touched a panel on the wall and extinguished the lighting on her porch, he confirmed with a quick glance toward her front lawn where he noticed her gate had swung shut. From there, the Granger witch ascended the stairs to the second story. Looking around, Lucius saw nothing he could use to elevate himself to continue his watch and he mentally kicked himself for not having had the foresight in his previous ventures there to remedy the issue.

One moment later, however, the sound of running water greeted his ears from an open window above him. A breeze passed through, smelling of one of her purifying oils and salt, and carrying the sound of her chanting.

'It seems Miss Granger truly is more learned than I had previously assumed,' he thought almost uncharitably. While he was aware from his surveillance that she wasn't ignorant regarding Wizarding traditions, hearing an Old ritual was still surprising. The songlike words drifted over him as he continued to evaluate what he knew of the currently bathing which. So lost in thought was he that Lucius nearly missed the sound of water slowly draining through the old pipeworks of the house. Almost.

Deciding she was nearly done with the purification ritual, he opted to move to another point on her property closer to her garden door. The property itself went back further than it looked, he had noted previously, as a small orchard sat by the back edge of the property lines some 200 meters away while he was already nearly three times that distance from the rear veranda. Looking more closely in the darkness, Lucius could see what looked to be two piles of wood, and, if his guess was correct, she would be bringing a plate out soon. A look to his pocketwatch confirmed it was nearing eleven. The little muggleborn had intrigued him with the thought of her practicing the Old Ways, but he would keep himself from being overly impressed until he was certain she knew what she was doing.

He was shaken from his thoughts upon seeing the flicker of her Western candle as it was set in the window of a room toward the back of the first floor. She came out shortly thereafter and his breath caught. Before him walked an apparition such that his words, had he been inclined to speak, were taken from him. Granger wore the same dress he had spied earlier and he saw now that it was nearly entirely transparent. Only the folds of the layers offered any modesty. The Empire waistline hugged her breasts, and he swallowed heavily upon spying the shadows of her dark nipples in the otherwise innocent attire. A subconscious glance lower confirmed she was bare at her womanhood as well.

'Merlin and Nimue,' he thought. He could sense her aura as she walked the silver plate of food to the orchard to set it on an altar formed from a stump.

"For the Pookah," he heard her whisper, and watched her set out a goblet to sate the woodland spirits' thirsts. He remembered his own father setting out the plate on the family altar, allowing him as a child to place a small cup of his pumpkin juice out for the mischievous creatures rumoured to appear that night. He never did catch sight of anything, having fallen asleep before midnight hit, but the morning after, the food was gone from the plate and all the libations were drained.

A rustling from the orchard she had just left had Lucius moving silently closer to her bonfire pitches and the altar between them just in case such creatures were real. With a nonverbal, wandless spell, she lit her torch and moved off to the front of her property, the gate, he was assuming, to begin her walk widdershins around the wards. Lucius took less than a moment to decide to move near to her veranda, opting to stand in a shadow to keep his Disillusionment less detectable.

A breeze passed around and through him and it felt like a warning… or a caress. Lucius shivered, the hairs on his neck raising slightly. A moment later, she appeared back in his periphery walking toward the orchard once more. His heart beat a bit faster remembering the movement he had heard, but his shoulders slouched a second later when she appeared unharmed on the particular ley line.

He hadn't sensed them before, but concentrating, he could feel the natural magic surrounding the house, but the wards were… old. How he had missed them on his precious excursions to the property, he wasn't certain, which added to his nerves. Not as fortified as Malfoy Manor in their age, but much older than one Hermione Granger. So how had she successfully hidden the surge of natural magic surrounding her estate? He pondered observing her lighting the bonfires with half of his attention.

He watched speechless as she disrobed, passing between the fires silently. The witch knelt and completed the land ritual, bonding her blood to the soil, an offering to ensure a bountiful harvest. The smell of incense filled the air as she circled her bonfires reverently and his eyes closed feeling the warmth of power wash over him.

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy," her voice came from before him and his eyes snapped open. Her own dark pair glittered at him in the firelight and she smirked. Without intending, his eyes roved her body, taking in her hard, tanned nipples and the glistening of oils on her body. A sudden vision of the witch, swollen with child twisted his gut with unexpected want. She would be beautiful, rosy and glowing. Lucius blinked and his eyes again focused on the woman before him.

"Come to join me?" Granger waved a hand at him and he felt the Disillusionment fall. He said nothing, simply stared at her nude form as she gazed back amused. The small witch giggled then, breathily, the light tinkle of chimes in the wind, sending a shiver down his spine and into his half-hard cock. He hadn't even felt the tingles of arousal - her pregnant image flashed across his mind's eye again- but his interest was become more plain with every passing second in her presence. Granger was at his side so quickly he would swear she Apparated, fingertips playing over his shoulders and chest as she danced around him. A breeze shifted the fabric of the light cloak he wore, and Lucius found she had undone a few buttons on the shirt he wore beneath.

'My witch is tricky.' He thought as he felt her graceful fingers running through his long hair and down his chest. She leaned up pressing her breasts fully against him to kiss at his jawline. Bergamot and orange filled his nose, with the tang of something headier and more primal.

"Come not to join me but to Claim me, then? Oh my dear, Lucius Malfoy," the surprising witch whispered into his ear sweetly, pausing to nip his lobe. "You picked the wrong night to come here." His eyes opened - when had he closed them? - and he felt light-headed. Her shape was slightly blurred in the silhouette of the firelight and Lucius' world tilted a bit. An undefinable scent once again wafted over him from one of the smoldering censers nearby, and his perspective shifted once more.

Whatever was burning had not only affected his equilibrium but, judging by the blood swiftly filling the member trapped in his trousers, was serving as a potent aphrodisiac. 'The potion!' silver eyes widened as he realized what his chosen witch had done, anger, amazement, and arousal warring within him. Unable to help himself, he tried to adjust himself, but the feel of even his own hand on his oversensitive phallus was enough to make him grit his teeth.

"How much do you know of the Old Ways, Lucius?" She asked lightly, moving back toward the altar to sit upon it, sipping her wine, one small foot perched on the edge while her other leg dangled freely. His mouth refused to work to respond, unsure where this evening had gone adrift. All he could do was eye the peek he had of her glistening folds and the way the blood red wine ran down her chin to drip upon her breast. Hand forgotten on his clothed appendage, he licked his lips to bring some moisture back to them, to find his mouth had gone dry. If she would give him some wine as well - he tilted forward instinctively, barely catching himself at the last moment from moving forward toward her. Rocking back on his heels, he stroked himself, and preened when her eyes hungrily followed his hand.

"For instance, in some Samhain observances, a witch will peel an apple in one go and toss the peel over her shoulder. The letter it forms is said to be the man she will marry." Hermione paused to lean back, still watching the press and pull of his hand, bringing her other leg up to prop a foot at the edge of the altar and bearing herself more securely. Lucius throbbed as he watched her essence slowly dribble down to the stone top, the petals of her nethers opening like a delicate flower. Conversationally, she continued, "Can you guess what my letter was?"

Unclasping his robe and letting it drop from his shoulders, he stepped closer, enthralled as she spoke again. "In another, bonfires of hazelwood are lit and passed between," Hermione ran a delicate digit down the valley between her breasts to collect the fallen drink and bring it to her tongue as he had wanted to do only moments before. Lucius began to unbutton his trousers, tongue darting out to wet his lips when hers tasted the wine on her fingers. "To purify the spirit and bolster spiritual awareness."

He stood before her now, just outside the circle she had cast, predatory and compelled by the woman before him. "My favourite, however, involves Sex Magic," her eyes were blown black and her magic crackled through her braided hair. Again, she used wandless and nonverbal magic and vanished the rest of his clothing, and he stepped into her circle, reaching to pull her fully to the edge of the altar and against him. He felt drunk with the raw magic circulating between them, giddy and lustful for the unexpectedly powerful witch in his arms.

"Witches on Samhain would rub their brooms with mandrake and ride through fields shrieking their orgasms for all to hear while blessing the land," Granger- no, Hermione whispered. Her toffee coloured eyes dropped to his shaft and back to his own quicksilver gaze, running her tongue along her teeth. "I've left my broom in the house, but…" she gasped when Lucius ran his length along her folds. "I think my future spouse would do just as well, yes?"

Before he could respond to her, Hermione grasp his pulsing member in one petite hand and stroked him once before letting go, taking his breath. Her legs wrapped around Lucius' waist and, with aplomb, she forcefully pulled him into her. Her head fell back with a groan. Unable to resist the sight, Lucius surged forward to nibble and kiss at the juncture of her neck, pulling out and snapping his hips back into her as she gasped.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders and back, gripping Lucius. The movement of the muscles beneath her hands had her digging her nails in, arousal heightened by the sensation. She hitched her legs higher, locking her ankles, around his hips when his large hands grasped hers and lifted her bum slightly. Hermione cried out, feeling his tongue on her, lapping at the wine which had spilt upon her flesh. When it curled around a nipple, her world blanked and she screamed.

"Lucius!" He cursed lowly in response, pumping her through her orgasm and kissing her collarbone and neck. A hand moved up her back, pulling her into an intimate embrace, completely off the edge of the altar. Lucius slowed the pace of their coupling to a torturously slow wave of motion, smooth yet shallow. He held the diminutive witch aloft in his arms, writhing with tension just waiting to be released.

Feeling his release nearing, he stopped the movement of his hips, groaning as his witch tried to fuck herself on him desperately. "Look at me," he commanded hoarsely. She moaned wantonly, but did so, lidded eyes aflame. Their noses touched, and, when their lips met, Lucius began fucking her in earnest.

Breaking their passionate kiss, Hermione threw her head back with a howl of ecstasy. Lucius felt a responding pull on his magic, the sensation only heightening the low tingling at the base of his spine.

He grasped the back of her neck, bringing their foreheads together, pushing deeper into her pulsing channel when an explosion of power sheared through him, sending the first burst of seed to coat her womb. The bonfires flared as their magic joined and surged with their coupling and the land around them tingled with the discharge of raw power. Shaking slightly with the rush, Lucius moved to place his witch gently on the altar, but she had tightened her legs around him. A second later, he growled at her, her inner muscles gripping the cock softening within her. "I'm not done with you, husband-to-be."

Hermione unwrapped her legs, using his shoulders as leverage. As soon as her feet met the ground, Lucius felt a tug in his navel and found himself in her bedroom. The smirk she wore on her full lips was filled with promises and he found he could do nothing but capitulate when she pushed him back onto the bed to straddle him.

"We," she whispered against his chest, a finger idly circling one sensitive nipple making his prick twitch against her. With a chuckle, Hermione rubbed her swollen folds against his length, enjoying the feel of its veins and ridges, causing him to gasp. "We still need to negotiate terms." The younger witch moved her lithe body against him, randomly rotating her hips and relishing in his spasms and clenched fists.

"What do you want?" Lucius finally rasped, cock throbbing in suppressed need. His little wife gripped it in a small hand, using the other to spread the lips of her most sacred space. He groaned at her display, wanting to drive himself deep into her.

"This house, this land, children, and all that befits a Malfoy wife." The fingers spreading her wide briefly swiped against her clit, and she shuddered over his cock, moisture dripping down to join his own excitement. "I know you can sense how old this land is. You don't know the half of it. I will tell you my secrets, you will have all of me - my power, my accounts, my connections," she licked her lips lasciviously. "My body, but you will give me what I want in return." For good measure, Hermione slipped along his length and shuddered in response, her pussy hot against him.

His body was once again singing with the thrum of raw magic, Old Magic. Lucius shifted his hips to dip slightly into her, the corners of his mouth turning up a bit. With a strength and speed she wasn't expecting, he flipped them over, driving into her.

"You will keep these lands," he stated, grunting with exertion. "You will keep these lands, this house, and your title here." Lucius' hands found the slight protrusions of her hip bones and grasped them steadily. "But you and our children will take my name." His end was coming upon him quickly, thrusting rapidly as he was. With a squeal, she nodded frantically and reached up to wrap an arm around his neck.

"We will take your name," she responded, whispering it against his lips. He twitched inside her and brushed the spot that made her see stars. With her gasp, he pushed deeper, exciting it again.

"Say it," Lucius growled into her jaw, tugging the plait running down her back for more access. When she did nothing but gasp and moan, he spoke again. "Say. My. Name." Each word was punctuated by a thrust against her g-spot, making her legs spasm and inner walls clench around him deliciously.

A thumb moved to rub against her clit and she nearly exploded around him, juices coating his thick member. "Lucius!" She cried out. The force of her orgasm triggered his, and Lucius snapped his hips forward, spilling long ropes of his come within her.

The collapsed in a tangle of limbs, magic and energy drained but bodies satisfied. As their eyes began the drop with exhaustion, curled around each other as their magic melded together, his witch divulged her first secret of many to him.

* * *

A/N: yes, I left this last bit intentionally open. What secret do you think she shared?


End file.
